


There Were Angels Dancing At The Ritz

by shelloi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 1940s, Again sort of, Alternate Universe - 1940s, Cardiff, Dancing, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, Rift, Romance, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Dancing, Sort Of, The Ritz Dance Hall, Time Travel, Torchwood References, World War II, and honestly there're a lot of references that make you go 'what the fuck??', angst if you squint, deal with it :))), idk - Freeform, more like a reference, whiskey or whisky who knows, who doesn't love a little mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-13 13:46:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20583482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shelloi/pseuds/shelloi
Summary: They were both American air force captains volunteering in the Royal Air Force for the British. Neither knew each other until that one night. That one, specific, life-changing night. When there were angels dancing at the Ritz.





	There Were Angels Dancing At The Ritz

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Loubone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loubone/gifts).

> So, I'm sure everyone who has watched Torchwood will see and hear and _feel_ the reference to that one specific episode that I will personally never get over. And then our dear destiel.fanfiction decided to host a little one-shot contest, and guess which AU this stupid, inept little writer chose to take? That bloody Torchwood episode, because I will never get over it. I wrote it with Dean and Cas. Deal with it. 
> 
> And don't worry! You can read this without having seen that particular Torchwood episode :)
> 
> Plot credit goes mostly to Torchwood writers (bless those people for the series, and murder those people for killing my baby off) and credit for the three characters goes to Supernatural creators. Honestly I just wrote this.

They were both American air force captains volunteering in the Royal Air Force for the British. Or for the Welsh, in this case. They were stationed in Cardiff, after all.

Neither knew each other until that one night. That one, specific, life-changing night. It was a Saturday night on January 20th in 1941. Kiss the boys goodbye dance, as they liked to call it. Almost every young soldier, officer and captain was having fun while they still could, dancing at the Ritz Dance Hall with all those pretty young ladies.

It was all so very familiar to Dean Winchester, captain of the 71st squadron, who was now nursing a glass of water and sitting at a table with a fellow captain and his lady. Captain Castiel Novak, 133rd squadron, a dreamy man, especially in a uniform. Dean could easily admit his attraction to other men, although tonight only to himself. The 1940s weren’t exactly the best time for the queer folk, Dean would know.

Dean had only met Castiel tonight after a little encounter with Novak’s officer and had then chatted with him for a while. They were now sitting together at a table by the stage, enjoying the music and the company of each other. Dean had noticed the looks the other captain had thrown his way, but Dean knew it wasn’t a good idea.

The captain asked Dean about his mission, but he quickly dodged the question with a bad excuse for keeping war secrets, or something alike. He didn’t have an answer to give. But then Castiel’s companion, Nancy she was called, thought it was because of her, so she made her leave, standing up and giving an excuse of her own. Dean hadn’t meant to be rude to her, he simply couldn’t answer Castiel’s question.

So Castiel kissed Nancy’s cheek and told her goodnight, and obviously disappointed that her man was staying, Nancy turned and left. But Dean chose to intervene. He could see Castiel was a man like him, who didn’t really belong to this time, but had no choice. It was better if he kept hold of Nancy, when he still had a chance.

“Was that it?” he questioned, giving Castiel a what he hoped seemed like a disapproving look.

“She’s a sweet kid, but I need to look after my men tonight”, Castiel replied to him. It was an excuse; Dean could see right through the man.

Then Dean leaned forward, giving Castiel a very determined look: “Go after her. Kiss her goodbye. Anything can happen tomorrow. You don’t know what’s ahead.”

And Dean did manage to convince the man, who then went after the girl, kissing her goodbye. That was good, Dean thought, better than nothing. But when the captain returned to the table, he didn’t look very happy.

“That just made things worse. Now she thinks she’s in love with me.”

With that, Castiel grabbed his glass and turned around, leaving the table as quickly as possible and back down the stairs with Dean at his foot, exclaiming it was hardly his fault.

“Play it cool in front of your men but not in front of me. Look, it’s okay to be scared!”

That made Castiel stop and turn back to face Dean.

“A captain has to keep his head!”

“A captain needs to explain the risks, tell his men what to expect.”

“So what do I do? Tell them I saw a young boy get shot in mid-flight?”

“I understand!” Dean insisted, but Castiel didn’t seem convinced, his hold awfully tight on his glass of whisky.

“Do you? Did you hear them on the radio, yelling for his mom while the Messerschmitts pumped him full of holes and blew his plane apart? All I could hear on the radio—”

“—is screams”, Dean finished for him. He knew, and he most certainly understood. Even is Castiel didn’t believe him.

“I went to war when I was a boy”, he continued, now that he finally had the man’s attention, “I was with my best friend. We got caught crossing over the enemy lines. They tortured him, but not me, because he was weaker. They made me watch him die!” Dean exclaimed. He would’ve cried, held back tears, if he had any left. But he didn’t. It was a long time ago, a painful reminder of what a failure he was. “And they let me go…” he murmured, now arms crossed protectively and looking at the floor, not able to face his fellow captain.

“Who were they?” Castiel asked, his face frowning in both curiosity and worry. Or maybe that was sympathy. Dean didn’t know.

“The worst possible creatures you could ever imagine”, Dean said dismissively, now continuing down the stairs. But then he stopped, and Castiel came to a stop with him, looking at him and waiting for the captain to speak.

“I persuaded him to join up, I said it would be an adventure. He hadn’t lived.”

“Have any of us?” Castiel then asked, looking Dean in the eye. Those devastatingly gorgeous sapphire blue eyes capturing Dean’s soul. And then he turned, leaving down the stairs.

It was later that night when Castiel and Dean were alone again. There had been an incident, bomb warning, during which all people hid in the cellar of the dance hall, but it was over quite soon, and everyone had returned inside the building to dance.

The captains had sat at a table on a balcony looking over the dance floor. Both had their respective drinks sitting on the table and were enjoying the mood and the company. But Castiel had needed to know something that had kept bugging his mind for a while now.

“Why did you make me kiss her goodbye?”

That certainly caught Dean’s attention. And Dean’s answer to the captain’s question was truthful. For once.

“I just think you should live every night like it’s your last. Make tonight the best night of your life. You’re alive, right here, right now. Your men are fine.”

But that didn’t seem to be enough for Castiel.

“What are you trying to say?”

“Go to her. Go to your woman and lose yourself in her”, Dean insisted, no matter how much he wanted to speak of himself. Yet Castiel didn’t seem satisfied, like he wanted to hear something different.

“Maybe I should.”

“Yeah”, Dean sighed, looking down at his drink.

“Is Charlie your woman?” Right, Charlie. Dean’s companion tonight. The raging, red-headed lesbian who was so lost in this time, even with Dean by her side.

“No. There’s no one”, Dean answered. And surely, it was the truth. No one but random hook-ups every now and then, when he wasn’t entirely invested in his job. This conversation was quickly turning awfully depressing, so he tried, one more time, to convince the captain: “Go to her.”

And maybe that really was enough. Because Castiel stood and left, leaving Dean sitting at the balcony by himself.

Dean truly had thought Castiel had left then. Went after his woman and spent the night with her. So of course anyone would be surprised in his place, when Castiel suddenly turned up, right where Dean had gone off to well in his own thoughts.

“I thought you’d gone”, he mused, finally looking up at the other man, who huffed in… what was that, amusement? Uncertainty? “This could be your last chance”, Dean continued, now less than half-heartedly.

“That’s why I came back”, Castiel replied, with what looked like a shy smile on his lips as he sat down on the settee sofa beside Dean.

The two men shared a look in the silence that overtook the private corner, hidden from sight. And maybe finally did Dean realize what Castiel meant. Something they both now shared, knowing the other wouldn’t beat you or run away. Castiel wanted Dean, just as badly as Dean wanted him. And there the captain now sat, waiting for Dean to response, give him something, a confirmation, anything.

So Dean turned to him, facing him fully, but still wanting to warn Castiel that this might just be their first and final night together.

“I might have to leave before the night is over.”

And maybe Castiel did understand. Or he didn’t, but he didn’t seem to care. Because he simply smiled and shrugged his shoulders a bit shyly before responding: “Well, then make the most of now.”

Both of the men then looked down, where Castiel was oh-so-carefully taking Dean’s hand in his, slowly and uncertainly, not really knowing what this was, or how to go. But Dean responded, and intertwined their fingers together, then looking up, in those gorgeous blue eyes of his companion.

But only seconds later their moment was broken by a laughing young couple, who stumbled into the lovers’ corner, as people liked to call it. And the men parted, Castiel quickly making an excuse, before leaving. And Dean was so utterly confused. What was he to make of that moment they shared together in secret? Was it not what he thought it was?

Then the evening was slowly coming to an end and the band was playing their last slow song, with couples taking the floor and swaying there, bodies pressed closely together.

Dean sat at a table on the edge of the dance floor with his friend, holding Charlie’s hand and taking all the comfort she could give him. They didn’t know if they would be stuck here for the rest of their lives, or if their friends could get them out somehow. Nothing was certain. Except for the fact that Dean was wallowing in his own misery, once again.

Castiel was standing on the other side, a glass of whisky still in his hand and not knowing what he should do. He desperately wanted Dean, to hold him and have this one night, to get comfort and give it as well. But he couldn’t, could he? Everyone was here, and everyone would see.

_That certain night_  
_The night we met_  
_There was magic abroad in the air_

But he had this one night. And Dean had told him to make this the best night of his life. And if this was all he could get, despite the worst that could happen, it would be worth it.

_There were angels dancing at the Ritz_  
_And a nightingale sang in Berkeley square_

But in truth, there really was nothing to lose, for Castiel. There was nothing to lose, not when he could have this. When he could place his glass down, and make his way through the dance floor towards the man he knew he wanted, and whom he knew wanted him back.

_I may be right I may be wrong_  
_But I'm perfectly willing to swear_

He didn’t care about the looks or words thrown his way in whispers as he walked to the table. He didn’t hear or see anything or anyone else, when he took the man’s hand in his own and gently pulled him along to the dance floor. He barely noticed, when everyone else moved to the side. Everything became blur and quiet, when his own arms carefully and so uncertainly wrapped around the other man, who didn’t hesitate to hold Castiel back.

_That when you turned and smiled at me_  
_A nightingale sang in Berkeley square_

Everything else became unimportant. Nothing else mattered, not now, not in this moment, as the two men pressed against each other, and held one another, living in the comfort of that gentle touch and that moment.

It didn’t matter that it was 1941. It didn’t matter that it was war time. It didn’t matter that neither one of them knew what would happen. They were both heroes of their own time, and this was the one thing they could share together, when they still had time. When their lips pressed against the other’s. And when the music continued to play.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Please leave a comment, or at least some kudos, we writers live off of those.


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